The Salt of Endor

Wish you were here.

Each card of the Tarot is numbered these numbers can give you a look at who you are based on the number day you were born. I was born on the 6th, so the 6th card in the deck is The Lovers. So siked to get this on my thigh soon, I’ve been wanting if forever. 

“The archetype of The Lovers represents passion, for a person, a cause, work, nature, anything that you can find yourself totally consumed by.  People who have this card as their lifetime archetype tend to feel overwhelmed by their strong emotions and beliefs, and when unable to act upon their feelings, can become frustrated, angry or depressed.  You sense the Divine all around you, but sometimes it feels like an ocean of spirit and feeling that you can’t articulate about or take action on.  Your intuition and instinct makes you want to rush around and do everything you can for those you care about or in performing tasks you feel worth doing, but you have a hard time channeling your passion for love and life to make your everyday life manageable.  You need a funnel to provide yourself with a small stream of this Divine gift, this ocean you would like to immerse yourself in, just dealing with one small miraculous aspect of life at a time.

The Greek myth of the Labours of Psyche provides an example that reflects the nature of this card.  Psyche was assigned certain tasks before she could have any hope of winning back her lover.  One of them was to fill up a cup with water from a stream, almost a river, that came bursting out of a high cliff.  Psyche took the cup and went to look at this wild, crashing waterfall that rushed out into the air and fell to the bottom of a great abyss.  She saw no way to reach it, and even if she could, she would not have the strength to hold the cup up to this mighty stream.  She felt like giving up, she could see no alternative.  A great eagle flew from the sky and asked her why she was crying.  She explained her predicament, and the eagle offered to help.  He took the cup in his strong beak and rose up in the sky, and coming in close to the great rushing water, filled it to the brim with the clear, cool elixir that Psyche needed to take back to her taskmistress, Aphrodite, the goddess of love. She thanked the eagle for his help and carried the cup back with great care, never spilling a drop, and was able to move on to the next stage of her journey.

In mythical terms, this tale describes the feeling of trying to hold on to all the passion of the universe that wells up in our hearts and motivates us to act on our feelings and desires, but which also can knock us over or drown us with its force.  The eagle, denizen of the sky, the air, represents our mental facilities and analytical skill. He can fly a straight line through the clouds and across great distances that separate us from our goals.  With the Lovers as your tarot archetype, you tend to follow your heart, but also have the eagle’s keen eyesight (insight) and ability to fly straight (to go to the essence of a situation) to fulfill your hopes and dreams. 

Another key element of this card, related to this duality of heart and mind that you find yourself dealing with, is the struggle of your subconscious to break into your waking consciousness.  This deep intuition about and concern for those around you, as well as for the community, the world, pushes you to find ways to bring your dreams into your waking life, even when others find you impractical or over emotional about your goals.  You can never be satisfied emotionally with a relationship, a job, a way of life, unless your spiritual needs are met as well.  You have the ability and intuition to bring the dualities of your life together in harmony, that is the nature of The Lovers, your archetype.  Trust your feelings, they are strong and true, but let your head guide you to the best practical way to accomplish your goals and show those you love how you can truly care for them.”

Intro to The Hangers Fold: The Salt of Endor “In the beginning there was the end, a time called Ragnarok by those who know it. Their was death, war and turmoil, but these small woes could not prepare them, those first of The Fold. Eventually in time the wolf Skoll caught the sun, and Hati caught the moon. These two, the sons of Fenris, child of Loki unleashed their Father from Hel. With Fenris came the death of all things living and the return of all things dead. He brought with him destruction and finally at the jaws of Fenris, Odin met his doom. It was told that this would be the mark of extinction of all, but it was not.

For when Vioar, son of Odin avenged him by ripping apart the jaws of Fenris the fabric of all things did as well. Space and time tore away creating a gate to a new realm, the dead moon divided the extinguished sun leaving three hanging reminders of life once lost in the black sky. A beacon in the darkness, that called out into the void towards things unknown. 

Cities crumbled, those of sound mind fled to the woods, to leave those of sickness and perversion in the ruins to rot, to live with those who were like them, the living dead. But as much as those sick wanted to leave, they wanted back what they had lost even more. Polluted by their lust for their technologies, the high class, the low class, for the comforts of what was, who they were, why they were. They became further lost in the abyss, comforted only by wandering the destroyed towers of their forgotten city. Their minds blackened, filling with tar and dirt, vengeance, the need, the need for life again. This call did not go unanswered, for in the void, in the torn fabric of space, their was something listening and waiting for such a plee. Through the dead of space it came, The White Wizard, and with him followed his servants and slaves.”

This makes me giggle

(Source: punk-fuck, via lankyangsty)

Tummler: Know what Im doing tomorrow?
Solomon: What?
Tummler: Going to an insane asylum.
Solomon: Insane asylum?
Tummler: Gonna get me a raving beauty.

(Source: unicornsandacorns, via lankyangsty)

“The Hangers Fold, It had seemed as though each day there were more given the rights of death, a ritual written by those long brought to the Keeper of the Black Towers. This matter of possession was one that no priestess of our time could truly fathom. The thought that a sister could delve so deep into the past that it would corrupt her mind so, well it left one with simply troubled thoughts. But this is what they want, what the creatures feasted on, the doubt, the questioning of our beliefs, the sorrow.

As we looked on our sisters into the fire she was cast, the only way to save her astral body and banish out the Greshloks that have claimed her sanity. The bottomless chalice of salt purified what could be saved of her on this plane. We chanted and prayed, giving blessing with rosemary and pine to give her strength on her journey from pain, to death, a right death, a fine death.

Finally they began their last stand, as they bore their way out of her organs they began to push upon her flesh. As they began to come into focus and could no longer hold their invisibility they began spilling out like a new born doe. They tore and shrieked as they attempted to cling to her body which twisted in agony. Our words were to strong, and our rights to true for them to continue their assault on this now empty shell.
As the demons fled and the vessel for her bones became full with the purified blood eventually her body did too flee. Bits of hair and skin singed in ash began to take in the air. Blowing through the wind, up to the ancestors who’s vessels remained saved in the Golden Hive of the Fold. The wood on which she stood popped and cracked, hissing into the night as it eventually became cinders. Eventually their was no longer any skin, any rope to hold that skin, just a pile of wooden ash and bones.

It was at this point we needed to do the final right, as the one True Priestess climbed atop the platform she began to collect what was left of our sister. The True Priestesses hands began to be stained with black as she riffled through the ashes, bits and pieces getting caught under the fine folds of her lifetimes worth of skin. Throwing what was left of the red glowing bark to the side in order to collect all she needed.

After having found the skull and the bones of the left hand she picked up the vessel which held the salt that absorbed her blood. As she walked the platform to let all see that the right had begun every sister placed their rosemary and pine into the vessel. Now bathed in her purified blood the vessel held all that she was on the astral plane, her skull would help her to understand all the universe, and her hand to point her back the way when the time came to summon her spirit once more.

As we all looked to the east to thank our ancestors for our rights and ways the suns began to rise. It was time to go gather more wood, as we had more rights to preform, more sisters to give a good and clean death. I wonder, when will the madness end, what is killing our people.  “

She will go to the city, she will find the cure in a land that is cursed.

DÜRER, Albrecht
Death of Orpheus
1494

Sometimes a dudes just gotta get got, nah sayin?